


Purple and Hawks Do Mix After All

by Illusinia



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1235005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/Illusinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wakes up to Psylocke and a very interesting new pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple and Hawks Do Mix After All

A pecking and scratching at the window woke Clint, drawing him from his sleep with a groan. Lifting his head blearily, the archer dragged himself into a sitting position and peered towards the window. A bird was sitting on the window sill, staring at him with bright yellow eyes. Not just any bird either: it was a hawk. A hawk with purple tinted feathers.

"The hell?" muttered Clint as he stared at the avian specimen. Why was a purple hawk sitting on the ledge outside his window? Hell, where did a purple hawk come from to begin with? It was like staring at his own personal mascot. 

The staring contest between him and the bird was abruptly ended, however, when Elizabeth (Betts), aka Psylocke, wondered into the room in one of his shirts.

"You’re as impatient as your counterpart, hawk," muttered Betts gently, shaking her head a bit as she slid open the window. He could read her lips as they formed the words, though he suspected she said something when she was bent partway out the window. He couldn’t tell though until she was back inside with the bird on her wrist. "Perhaps I should have predicted that though. You do wear his colors."

"Betts?" groaned Clint as he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the last of the sleep from his vision. His hearing aids rested on the nightstand beside him and he was quick to snatch up the devices. Slipping them into his ears, he was immediately assaulted with the usual wave of noises he could barely hear otherwise. Wincing, he rubbed his ears a bit as he turned fully towards his girlfriend. "What’s with the purple bird? And where did you even find a purple bird?"

"He’s a mutant," explained Psylocke calmly, wondering over to rest on the edge of the bed. "I thought he was beautiful and adopted him."

"Uh, right," muttered Clint as the bird stared back at him unblinkingly. The creature cocked his head, like he was sizing Clint up. "So what’s his name?"

"He doesn’t have one yet," replied Psylocke stroking the bird’s head. "He will be your therapy animal, so I wanted you to name him."

"Therapy animal?" repeated Clint. "Wait, hold on. I already have a dog. Why do a need a special animal for therapy?"

Rolling her eyes a bit, Psylocke settled more onto the bed and carefully held the hawk out to Clint. “Because you have difficulty differentiating between reality and everything else at times. You’ve admitted this yourself.”

"And you said that made sense after the whole ‘dying, being brought back into an alternative world, dying again, and being brought back again’ thing." 

"It does," assured Psylocke calmly. "And it is. But he," she gestured to the hawk, "is going to help you differentiate. It doesn’t appear to be a problem in battle where your mind focuses but outside of battle you struggle. I’m going to have this hawk follow you around and, if you begin to struggle, all you need to do is find him. He is real and his presence will be your touch stone."

Rubbing his neck a bit, Clint stared at the bird for another moment before nodding slowly. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. But I’ve got one thing: he’s not mine. He’s ours, okay?”

Smiling a bit, Psylocke nodded. “Very well, he’s ours.”

Nodding, Clint held out his arm for the bird to perch on if he wanted to. This wasn’t Clint’s first encounter with a bird of prey and he knew a bit about handling them as a result. As the animal hopped onto his arm with great care, Clint felt himself smiling a bit as well. “So, what are we naming him?”

Psylocke gave him a bit of a shrug, reaching out to stroke he hawk’s head. “As I said, he’s yours to name.”

"Nope," corrected Clint, looking at the bird critically. "Our bird, so we both name it."

"Fair enough," agreed Psylocke, her eyes moving back to the bird. "He looks like you."

"Thanks Betts," muttered Clint with a touch of a pout. "Never thought of myself as actually looking like a bird."

Smiling a bit, she shifted to sit beside Clint against the wall. “He is a purple hawk, just like you.”

"You wear purple too," argued Clint softly. He wasn’t really insulted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made the connection himself. That didn’t mean he’d take it sitting down though. "Maybe he looks like you."

"No," objected Psylock, leaning gently against Clint’s side to look at the bird as well. "He looks like both of us." Humming a bit, she reached out to pet the bird again. "What about Psyhawk?"

"What, like combining Hawkeye and Psylocke?" questioned Clint as he moved his leg so the bird could perch there. The hawk jumped silently onto the bed, looking between Clint and Psylocke as it started shifting into the bedding. Clint’s now free arm came up to rest around Psylocke as he mulled over the name. He kinda liked it to be honest. It was like some kinda physical manifestation that embodied the both of them. "I like it."

Chuckling faintly, Psylocke settled further into his side. “Psyhawk it is, then.”


End file.
